


Loud& Slutty

by Tizian23



Category: Carl Barât - Fandom, Pete Doherty - Fandom, The Libertines, The NME(RIP)
Genre: Band Fic, Breaking and Entering, Caught, Dirty Jokes, Established Relationship, Funny, M/M, Multi, Outing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:34:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23229439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tizian23/pseuds/Tizian23
Summary: Peter and Carl got busted by an NME photographer and now try to prevent the worst from happening.
Relationships: Carl Barat/Pete Doherty
Kudos: 41
Collections: Peter and Carl fics to lift our spirits during self-isolation





	Loud& Slutty

**Author's Note:**

> This started out inspired by a endless and really silly and daft commment threat under on a reunion fic.  
> So it just screamed to be written. Its my first attempt to be funny..  
> Please be gentle its full on silliness

"Are you sure about this?" he whispers, slight panic in his voice as we hide in the shadows. "Well, what else you gonna do? Call and beg for discretion? They have been waiting for this to happen for 10 years now...." Yeah I can't believe it didn't happen earlier actually ...I mean, all the times we ..." His voice hitches and dies away as someone exits the brightly lit glass door we're both staring at and locks it behind himself.I turn around, looking at him wrapped in his leather jacket anda large black scarf almost hiding his hair, delicate features and those eyes...oh man his eyes that have stolen my dreams for so many years now.. they are sparkling with something that might be a mixture of thrilled nervousness and mischief. He hands me the crowbar and says :"I cant..will you please? You've had more practice.." We giggle in unison about our long ago reckless stupidity.  
I walk over to the door, all hyper bravado, up the golden path of light that shines through the glass and falls upon the dirty pavement. Ha, so lovely of them to roll out the golden carpet, even when i come uninvited to violate their office with my partner in crime, I think cheekily, looking at the large sign that reads: ' NME Main Office.'  
Feeling Carl's presence at my back as he scans the street, checking for late night drunks wandering home or other intrusive trespassers. A quiet, but all the more painful, glassy crack as I step on the crowbar latched into the lock by the lower end of the door. I wave him over without turning around, and walk inside as leisurely as I can.  
He follows,picking up the iron tool from the floor as he walks over it." For once I am happy I spent so much time here.." he says quietly. "Well, give them credit, without them I don't know if we'd have made it that quickly that far..All because Conor wanted to get in your knickers first time he clapped eyes on you, my Biggles.. " I taunt him..." He just never dared to try because I'm sooo much taller than him... " I shake my fist in front of his nose demonstrating my being a hazardous risk of nature and hear him chuckle darkly.We walk down the carpeted hallway with dark offices opening up on each side. It smells of coffee and lilies at the reception desk withering away over the weekend. He swings the crowbar happily in his hand as we walk towards the editor in chief's office at the end of the hall. I can feel his good mood and the way he's relaxed with me during this silly expedition, like in old times. Partners in crime and melody and so on, both sides of forever... I grab his free hand and haul him to a stop in the wide open space between four open office doorways. He pulls me down a bit by the lapel of my coat, dives his sapphire blues into my golden-browns and kisses me, haste-free and with open eyes all here and with me in this moment. I can smell him; leather, his sodding coconut shampoo and smoke, a whiff of beer maybe, like the perfect boy should smell. I know this is a promise delivered by hand against acknowledgement. I close my eyes when I know for sure he is looking at me, and only me and kiss him back as slow and sloppy as we always kissed, in love before lust.  
We part slowly and look at the one closed door in front of us. The one door in the whole damn office. And the one locked door too.  
The sign says 'HARD drive efficency testing ' and he crinkles his forehead reading this. " Bull shit" he laughs. "Since when do you need a room for this...even i know that" " Everytime I saw someone coming out of here they had a fucking boner and locked it behind them...So I'm sure it's here. It can only be here!" Looking at the door for a second as if he's taking measurements for a hard punch. He walks over and opens it with the heavy tool in his hand in a swift and fluid movement as if he never did anything else in his life. I almost faint. My boy...a bundle of suppressed force and hidden unexpected talents...The door opens with a crack more scary sounding than the glassy one earlier, but I can't stop laughing as a golden light appears to shine out of the door, slowly swinging open.This is down right silly. He looks at me "What a sense of dramatic....tsss"  
Inside there are shelves all up the walls of the small room..Much less impressive than I would have imagined at the heart of the NME Gayness Bureau of Investigation...We stand there and I can't help but say :" How the fuck...d'you think we' ve got our own box?" "BOX? There should be our own fucking shelf, my filthy friend!" he answers in a amused outburst of feeling. We both turn, around in opposite directions, to the shelf next to us, stepping closer to flip through the piled-up files with names scrawled upon the folders.  
" Lemmy?" I hear him ask confused" You've got to be kidding me..." "Well he had his times in the 60's and 70's well and the 80's. I'm sure " I say absorbed with what I've found. I pull out a larger folder marked with " The Clash". I flip through it with raised eyebrows, photo over explicit photo, and think to myself that I won't mention that to him. Don't wanna destroy his illusions about Joe Strummer, knowing that he adores him for so much more than his music. I stuff the thing upside down into a shelf.Then I see a folder in his hand marked with "MORRISSEY" all capitalized with a heart scribbled around it and his grin as he flips though it. Turning the folder sideways with raised eyebrows. " Wow , no wonder he's nervous about sausages in his vicinity" he laughs. " Yeah, I know, I always assumed it." I grit my teeth a bit.Okay i say "Here I've got Richie Edwards, well what a shock. And Damon... well sure! Liam??? Really?..OH..I shouldn't have looked at that...wow! That really... woah..aeh...nasty...remind me not to shake his hand again when we meet, yeha? NO Noel though, how disappointing."  
"Did you know, Cocker is a rather deserved nickname for him...Jesus! Oh, I found the Strokes folder..." he turns around to share his amusement..." We look at the pictures. "How did they not notice someone took a photos of this? Is that a boy or a girl? What the hell is he doing with hioooohh!" He blushes. I look at it. It looks crowded, artistic and inventive. My appraisal for Julian Casablancas instantly raises about 45 notches. " Well now, I'm amazed he always looks so sulky on stage I've got to say." We look at each other bursting out with laughter. "So when you slapped his ass back then now you know why he yelped so loud."  
" Franz Ferdinand/Nilex" says the next folder..."Nilex? Ah well that's not so suprising...Alex always looks a bit stiff when i see him..." We giggle, looking a a vast display of skinny jeans around ankles, half buttoned shirts and undercuts.  
" Radiohead" I say dryly " That must be the reason for the miserable music" shaking the empty folder. One lonely photo flops to the floor, two boys sitting close to each other one offering the other one a tissue.  
" Why is there a Hedi fold..Oh my God PETE!..." he looks closer at the glossy picture then holds it a bit further away to get a better view turning it upside down " Why did you never do that with me, you naughty sod?" "You never asked for it...that's nothing I'd do to someone I love unasked, baby" I say blushing profusely." Is he wearing my shirt?"  
" Placebo" I say loudly, to distract him. As we open the slim file we find a lot of totally harmless pictures of Brian shaving his legs and holding hands with various very pretty girls. " So this nancy boy thing is fake?" he sighs, annoyed about so much audacity.  
" Marilyn Manson" I show it to him...It's not one but 4 folders, marked with 'boys", "strippers m/f", "gothstuff" and "miscellaneous". He grabs the Gothstuff one and starts laughing furiously over a couple pictures. I dare to look into 'miscellaneous' and am not surprised, but pretty impressed, about so much inventive evil love of adventure.....if that....I'd like to try that actually. I sneak the picture in my pocket for later inspiration.  
" Aah " He chirps in my back...pointing at the shelf to his left. There is a sign. It say's 'Carl and Pete' and then one for each of our bands over the last few years. I think about Drew, that sexy little mofo and all the things he did to me in lots of nights when I looked for fun and wanted to be with someone who'd do all kind of kinky things to me, but make me feel that he actually genuinely cared throughout...he is a rascal and the tongue stud is a total give away. Carl meanwhile smiling knowingly checks the file full of pics of Stan who obviously is not afraid of anything, anyone or any combination. He looks rather happily drugged on half of the pics. I may have underrated him thoroughly. Another rascal we've got there.  
There also is one lose pile of pictures of ..and this is quite a shock -Gary and John. Together. They are very drunk and very young but they definitely got it on with each other. Hands in pants and open mouth kissing and stuff- Carl and me standing gaping in the back ground looking quite shit faced as well. Carl wordlessly pockets the whole pile.  
Then we turn to the shelf marked "Pete/Carl" someone's penciled "well of course" under the sign. It's huge and sorted by year.Some parts are very crowded, some are really only one picture of us next to each other staring in different directions on red carpets.. " Hm' He grumbles, " so do we look for it, or do we take it all? Does the old stuff interest anyone still? I mean.. I am not so sure I actually wanna be reminded of all the stupid shit we did thinking that nobody saw us...I might get angry finding out"  
I pluck out a folder from years ago... open it and promptly see us leaning on a brick wall in some random back alley in a year when no one thought we were even talking on phone. He leans back against the wall gazing up into my eyes. He's very close to me, I'm in front of him, steadying myself with a hand next to his shoulders. I can feel the intense pain immediately again and remember way too well. All I wanted was to talk to him, but we both couldn't get a word out and so we just stood there hushed and looked at each other for hours. The silence said it all without spilling any unforgiving words that we could not take back. I felt torn apart and I could see he did too. At some point he took my hand and put it under his jacket to feel his heart beat faster and slower under my finger tips. It was more intimate than anything I had ever done to him before, and it nearly killed me to know.  
He looks over my shoulder now. Breathes " Oh Yeah, that!" Touches my neck and rubs it soothingly to let me know he remembers and knows.  
"Ha, I knew it!" He shoves a file under my nose that covers the back alley pictures and shows me a different kind of back alley. Me on my knees this time up against a wall, my face burried in his trousers, his braces dangling. The Night of the NME awards, when he didn't wanna kiss me on stage when we picked up our award. He promised me a different kiss later."I told you I saw someone. But it could be anyone there.. my face is not visible" He raises an eyebrow again and his finger points at the damn award that I dragged off stage lying next to me on the dirty floor."So... Let's take all the shit, then we don't have to look for something special...? I don't wanna leave any of this..." he decides and runs off, looking for bags to carry the stuff to our car - his car that he's now allowed to drive. May the Gods of Fuck and Rock'n'Roll save us and the others though...  
I hear him yell "AH fuck off" in another room somewhere...As I come around the corner I see him standing next to a desk... reading something- in his hand a cotton bag that is printed in violet stating "Carl Barat LOUD & SLUTTY". I look at him, the bag, and collapse laughing on the carpet. " It was a working title" he says annoyed " I don't know why they printed any merchandise..."  
I pick up another one off the desk next to me:"Carl Barat Slow Deep and Hard" and a picture of him flat on his face in a toilet " I dearly hope so, my love! " I reply choking with laughter and pointing at the photo." He said it looks really sexy."" You know Carlos, I ll never understand how you stop thinking at all, the moment that someone tells you this... I should tell you more often till you get used to it and are not so easily led anymore. "  
I pick myself up and walk over to him, pulling him close to me " You are so sexy and so daft sometimes you drive me crazy. Its hilarious and really sexy and if you weren't so sexy I wouldn't make fun of you so often about it." I slip my thigh between his and rub him a bit  
" Even pissed off you're so sexy that I'd love to shag you senseless on this floor right here. But let's get out of here and I'll do double work later? Please?"  
" Some journo tried to shag me here once..I kissed him a bit and then I thumbed him really hard and stomped out,"  
"Tart" I answer loudly from the other room, stuffing folders full of our dirty lovely past in the offensive cotton bags...  
"I sucked Conor off right where you stand the week before they printed our first cover."  
"I always wondered why he suddenly changed his mind about the Front page." he stands in the door frame now grinning.  
"You think there's a pic of that in there? I d like to have that for the Fourpenny Confessions. Did I tell you I'm working on the sequel? It would be a fabulous center piece called How the British Music Industry really works"  
We are both still laughing as we drag out the 4 bags. He stops to wipe the door handle with his scarf" I don't think they ll have any doubt about who paid a visit tonight. Will they really complain?" He gives up the wiping and replies  
"They must be tired of always jerking off to the same shit. Maybe now Nilex and Marilyn will get a look in"  
"By the way - hand me my 5 pounds - I told you Trent Reznor is an acting-up pussy."

" Hello there on Albion fic, we just wanted to let you know that the door of the NME office and the Secret stash of photos they store behind the green door will be open and unguarded until tomorrow morning around 12 - if they're in early. Maybe you'd like to pay them a visit and find things you like? How about that? Hail to the Mischievous! xo"

"And he just called me daft..."


End file.
